Lies
by The Sarcastic Typo
Summary: The last time Charles lied is not exactly as he suspected.


**Title:** Lies  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** The last time Charles lied is not exactly as he suspected.  
**Disclaimer:** MASH ended five years before my birth. This makes it slightly impossible for me to own it.  
**A/N:** Written for Hawkeye's Martini's Story Challenge over on LJ. Thanks again to Caroline for the beta.

"_I am a Winchester, Pierce. We adapt to any situation. Now, I am fine. **Please **__leave me **be**."_

Charles remembered his last lie - it had been to his annoying, buffoon of a tent mate, Pierce. The man didn't know how to mind his own business at _all_. Really, a little compassion every now and then was one thing, but Pierce had endless quantities of the stuff. It was irritating, especially when he simply wanted to be left _alone_.

It was just after one of those _horrendously_ long sessions in OR, where everyone had lost a patient or two, no one was free from the saddened, defeated look in their eyes, and everyone's nerves were on high alert. Pierce had been attempting to get him to "open up" to himself and Hunnicutt, to make himself "feel better." Charles nearly snorted at this - how preposterous!

Yes, it was true that he_ wasn't_ 'fine', per se, but Winchesters did not sit around in old, ratty army tents sharing their _feelings_ with others while drinking alcohol that would be better suited as lighter fluid. A _Winchester_ put on soft music, sat next to a warm fire, closed his eyes, had a maid bring him some cognac, and let the stress fade away slowly, like the sunlight outside a window, as the sun set.

As Korea was - irritatingly enough - lacking both fireplaces and maids, Charles supposed he would have to make do with his music and his cognac. It wasn't perfect - indeed not, as perfect included him back in Boston - but it would do, he thought, closing his eyes, preparing to relax.

The relaxation never came, no matter how much he wished for it. All that swam through Charles' mind were the choppers and the blood and the boys. All that was there were the images and his words to Pierce, haunting him, _"Now, I am fine._"

His eyes snapped open and he glared at Pierce's cot, because no one else was in the tent, and he couldn't glare at his semi-conscious state. This wasn't right or normal. He should be _relaxing_ now, letting the war fade into the back of his mind, no longer the thing to worry about at the moment.

Charles sighed. He wasn't fine, but Winchesters _did_ adapt - clearly he would get over this. Of course he would. Charles nodded to himself and took another drink. Yes, he'd succeed in relaxing - he was being foolish to think that he wouldn't. How had he doubted himself?

He smiled, took another drink, and closed his eyes again, expecting to actually relax this time. He expected for the stress to melt away or drip off of him, slowly, as always, and for everything to be okay again. He was sure that this would work. It had to.

He heard the shells and the screams, this time. He saw his patient die on the table in front of him, himself unable to save the young man. His eyes shot open again, his last lie still ringing in his ears, _"I am a Winchester, Pierce. We adapt to any situation."_

Charles frowned and finished off his glass, quickly pouring himself another. Really now, this was getting ridiculous. He should be relaxing! He'd finally been left alone - which, as he judged by the steadily setting sun outside, wouldn't last for much longer - to listen to _his_ music and to drink _his_ alcohol, and the damned war was invading it! It was invading _his_ time!

Charles sighed again and shook his head - he was giving the war human characteristics. Clearly something was not right here. He had to shake this off and get back to normal before either Pierce or Hunnicutt or both returned from wherever they were and whoever they were annoying. He did not need to add "embarrassment" to any of his problems.

Shutting his eyes again, he tried to completely let go. It almost worked. The sounds and sights of the war invaded his mind together, this time, his entire last lie still there, as if it and the war were connected, intermixed. As if one couldn't exist without the other. _"I am a Winchester, Pierce. We adapt to any situation. Now, I am fine. **Please **__leave me **be**."_

Charles eyes opened slowly, this time, in realization. Suddenly, he knew why he wasn't able to relax, why his mind kept flashing images and sounds he'd rather forget, and why his last lie to Pierce kept repeating incessantly, as though it were something he'd recorded, and the player was broken. Suddenly, it all made sense, and he wasn't sure how comfortable he was with that.

He hadn't realized it, but his last lie hadn't been to Pierce at all.

It had been to himself.

-End


End file.
